


Comfort

by Phoebe_Snow



Series: If Amber is Your Soul, Then Baby, I'm Drowning In It [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Imagine your OTP, Implied Sexual Content, Injury, Love, MY BABIES, Molly Hooper Appreciation, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Self Prompt, Sherlock takes care of his lady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 05:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12204453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebe_Snow/pseuds/Phoebe_Snow
Summary: When Molly's ankle is sprained at work, Sherlock shows up just in time.Takes place a few weeks after Tender.





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies if any of you believe that Molly is a damsel in distress in this ficlet. I loathe that kind of trope and the only reason I made her injured here is because I love how domestic and protective Sherlock gets of her. It's just the hopeless romantic in me. :3

* * *

  

A small grunt came from Molly's lips as she hobbled down the hall to the women's locker room. The pain on her ankle wasn't very bad, but it still stung whenever she walked on it. Thank goodness Mike had given her the rest of the day off.

"I wonder who could have left that puddle of water in the floor in the pathology lab. I wish they had been more careful." Molly sighed and when she reached her personal locker, she opened it and deposited her white coat inside. Her favorite green and purple jumper was there, but she struggled to get it on.

At first, Molly leaned on her left ankle - the uninjured one - and hopped on her foot in an attempt to maintain balance while she tugged the top on her upper torso. Unfortunately, her hair got a little tangled with her hair tie and the jumper wouldn't go over her head.

Molly accidentally put her right ankle down on the ground and she cried out from the jolt of pain that ran through her leg. Precariously, she felt herself tilt forward and flailed, but a pair of strong arms caught her before she fell, holding her close to a familiar masculine chest.

"Good thing I came down here. That would have been a bad slip," said a baritone voice that Molly knew all too well. The man's hands disentangled her hair from her jumper and pulled the fabric in place. When she opened her eyes, it was Sherlock who stood in front of her.

"Oh, thank you, Sherlock." Molly gave him a grateful smile and leaned against her locker as she took out her purse and coat.

The detective frowned when he saw how she was standing and he glanced at her wrapped ankle. "Molly, what happened to your ankle?"

"I, uh, I twisted it...in the lab."

"In the lab?" Sherlock's frown deepened. "Since when do you have accidents? You're always careful and you never wear heels to work."

"I know, but someone left a puddle of water on the floor and I hadn't been paying attention because I was busy with my post mortem. It's not too bad, but Mike gave me the rest of the day off and I won't be coming in tomorrow either so I have time to recoup a bit."

Sherlock snorted. "What kind of idiot would just leave a spill on the floor like that? It's dangerous, discourteous and completely unprofessional."

It was refreshing to see him be so protective of her. Molly honestly thought it was rather cute - not that she'd admit this out loud and if Sherlock managed to deduce it from her, she'd just threaten to tell John and Mary the pet name he calls her whenever they're alone. She smiled as she closed the locker and adjusted her bag. "Calm down. I've only got a sprained ankle, not a broken one. Now, if you wouldn't mind helping me to a cab, I'd like to get home and relax."

Sherlock sighed and just picked Molly up in his arms. She yelped and latched on to his shoulders in surprise, her brown eyes wide as two gold pieces. "Sherlock! Put me down!"

"And let you injure your ankle further? Nonsense." Despite Molly's objections, Sherlock continued to carry her through St. Bart's effortlessly as if she weighed no more than a feather.

"You don't have to carry me through the entire hospital. People will see."

"So let them see. Why are you so shy about a simple feat of chivalry, Molly?"

"Because someone might think it's romantic, you nincompoop! That's why!"

"And that's such a bad thing? As I recall, you and I **are** romantically involved, so there shouldn't be a problem with my carrying you." His eyes twinkled mischievously.

"I don't have a problem with it, but I'd rather not like my coworkers to find out about our relationship in such a grandiose way."

"They're going to find out eventually, so what does it matter _when_ they find out? It's not like it's any of their business. You and I are grown adults and we can do as we wish."

Molly groaned and laid her head on Sherlock's shoulder. "There's no way I can talk you out of this?"

"Nope," he replied, smirking at her. Sherlock half-turned and pushed the front door of St. Bart's open with his hip.

"Fine. On second thought, I should enjoy this as much as possible. It's been a while since a man has carried me in his arms."

"You mean I'm not the first?"

"Mm-mm, I went to a party at uni several years ago. Christopher Macready carried me home when I was too drunk to walk."

"You were drunk? I find that hard to fathom."

"Well, we all do silly things, don't we? And I really liked Christopher, so it didn't bother me. He was nice."

Sherlock pursed his lips and said nothing. Instead, he set her down momentarily and hailed a cab. When it stopped, he opened the door, helped her onto the seat, gave the driver her address and followed her inside.

All was silent for a handful of minutes and Molly began to wonder if something was wrong. Sherlock wasn't saying anything, just scowling slightly and looking like a handsome marble statue.

Suddenly, Molly realized what may be going through her boyfriend's mind. "You're not jealous, are you? I mean, that was a long time ago and it's not like anything happened."

"I know that. It's just uncomfortable for me to think of another man's hands being on you." The words came out in a huff and Molly suspected that Sherlock was thinking, not about Christopher, but of her ex-fiancé, Tom. No doubt the sexual aspect of their relationship as well. That made her cringe.

She scooted onto his lap, so she could get closer to him. "Sherlock, you and I can develop at our own pace. I'm willing to wait until you're ready for us to have sex. It's no rush, you know."

"I'm aware." He touched a few strands of her hair in his hands, focusing upon them for a moment before looking back up up at her face. Desire shone in his eyes as he said, "I like having the knowledge that you only want me, and that you're _mine_." The possessive way he formed his words made a chill run down Molly's spine and she parted her mouth to speak, but Sherlock crushed his lips to hers and smoothed his hands over her hips.

Molly moaned and clutched his bel staff, kissing him back in exuberance. When she pulled back, her eyelids fluttered open and her fingers ran down to his shirt, fiddling with the buttons. "And you're mine, too." She nuzzled his nose with her own and he sighed contentedly, pressing his lips to her pulse point.

Sherlock's hand slid down her thighs and squeezed, eliciting a soft moan from Molly's lips and kept going until he slipped into the waistband of her trousers. He didn't go past her knickers, but he did play with the edges of the fabric, teasing her with his fingers.

Such light, playful touches were making Molly unbelievably turned on and she caught his hand with hers. "I think we'd better stop before things get a little too heated in here."

"Oh, I think things are  **more** than a little heated." Sherlock's voice was a pitch deeper now, which put more coals on the fire.  
  
Molly glanced at the rear view mirror and the cabbie quickly looked away with a smirk on his face. Leaning close to Sherlock's ear, Molly whispered, her breathe warm on his cheek. "I'd rather not be ravished in the back of a cab. The audience isn't desirable. So if you don't mind waiting until we get to my flat, I'd be appreciative."

"Just how appreciative," he asked with a grin.

She kissed his lips once more with feeling and slipped her tongue inside briefly, tantalizing him and driving his senses wild. Then she drew back and put her arms around his neck, resting her forehead to his. _"Very."_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's the end of _Say It If You Feel It_! I hope you enjoyed reading this series as much as I did writing it! Comments and kudos are love!
> 
> Drop by my [Tumblr](http://greenfleeze.tumblr.com) or my [Instagram](http://instagram.com/dr.molly.hooper) if you'd like to say hello!


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